So I left it on the living room table up until the day I had to play tetris with two balikbayan boxes before going home. He showed me the page where the little people start pouring out of a dead girl, survivors of their world turning to jelly and crumbling. When I happened upon him in our living room later on and asked him how the book was, he said that it was disturbing–this, coming from the guy who wrote a tender family story with baking a dead person into a cake at its center. One of my roommates, the awesome horror writer Haralambi Markov, saw it and asked to borrow it for a while. To start with, I did not buy this book–it was sent to me by a friend who wished for me to bring it home for her from San Diego, where I was immersed in the Clarion Writers Workshop and thus, had very little time to read work that wasn’t that of my classmates. The physical experience of having the book sort of mimicked my reading experience. Beautiful Darkness got under my skin whether I wanted it to or not.
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